Tales of the Bounty

In the city of Farcry at the worlds edge it always rains. It rains constantly for many things. For death because there are deaths everyday, for life because their is procreation everyday, but mostly for him, because he is there. The living dead is there in all his undeniable decay, no matter how clean he may appear. He is a man tall and slender with dark eyes and dark hair. He does not have a name to me since I have not met him. But when you do meet him apparently in the introduction he has a title, a living breathing title. He wears a mask over half his face from the tip of his nose to the base of his neck. He is human enough to want people to see his eyes, but monster enough to conceal the rest. He can be killed by bullet, blade, or bacteria. But time does not harm him, but strengthens him like a fine wine. Many of the finest have tried to kill him, many of the most poignant killers. All the era's have all failed. Now in the modern era in the city where it always rains.

So they have come to this city to flush him out like wild game. It always cloudy here, the lights of the city are always on and gleaming. So much light and water it is smeared like an impressionist painting. It is our modern world, modern bullets, modern steel, only it has grown in this Farcry. A company is funding them, directing them. It has no name, but it has men in coats in white who will dissect him and study him. So is the law of human nature.